Marie Jackson
by wh0lockian
Summary: AU where John finds out about his teenage daughter but Sherlock is puzzled by the mysterious girl. Pre and post reichenbach!
1. Chapter 1

This is my first story so please rate and review! any suggestions would be really helpful. Thanks!

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"I'm _bored_!" cried Sherlock as he started pacing round the room.

"Why don't you take the case Mycroft gave you last week? He is your brother

Sherlock." said John, while reading his newspaper. Sherlock looked at him with utter disgust on his face.

"Oh yeah I forgot you don't do sentiment." said John bluntly. Sherlock stopped pacing. He didn't know how to reply to John's rare outburst, normally he would just sigh or agree with him.

"I'm bored." he said again and jumped onto the sofa.

"Well I've hidden your bloody gun if you were planning to blame it on the wall again."

"The wall had it coming."

John sighed. He knew he was fighting a battle he had already lost. "Tea?"

"Black, two sugars." replied Sherlock while staring at the ceiling. He heard a cab pull up outside 221B. Finally a case! Well that's what he hoped anyway.

He heard a deep male voice, mid forties, smoker, low class, no children of his own, tall, rather large, no job and very very angry.

**BANG BANG BANG!**

Whatever this man wanted, he was at the door.

"Who have you upset now?" shouted John from the kitchen.

"An easier question to answer is who haven't I upset, John." he stated. He could hear John's quiet chuckle from where he was sitting which gave him a small smile. At least this 'visitor' would entertain him for a little while.

"You can't just come in here without saying who you are!" cried Mrs Hudson. John came in with the tea and looked at Sherlock. They both turned to the man standing in the doorway. He held a teenage girl by her arm in his left hand and threw her into the room. She managed to keep her balance but he pushed her to the ground.

"She's your problem now." he said to the men. "She's your fucking daughter after all."

The man ran down the stairs and slammed the door behind him. The girl stood up and brushed herself down. She looked at the two men and the woman looking at her. She didn't say a word. Sherlock looked up and down her once.

"Around 15," the girl jumped at Sherlock's voice. "bitten nails so she's worried about something, scruffy hand me down clothes, poor background, scars in her wrist, self harm, bruising around her arm and neck, domestic abuse, dark eyes so she's tired, locket around her neck so she's lost someone close, older female relative, not her grandmother, lack of communication in her family, must be her-"

"Sherlock!" John shouted at him, causing the girl to jump again. How could he do that from one look? He's clever but seems to be very bored... She thought to herself.

"What? If she's not going to tell you about herself, John, then it's easier if I just tell you myself."

John. His name was John. She turned and looked at this man, holding two cups of tea. Obviously one was for this Sherlock and one for himself but what about the older lady in the doorway who she then realised was talking to her.

"Just ignore these two, they're having another domestic." Sherlock scowled at her. "Are you ok dear?" she asked. The girl nodded.

"What did he mean daughter anyway?" said Sherlock. "We both know I can't have a child."

John looked at the girl in shock. She must be his. She had green eyes and quite long curly brown hair, the same colour his was when he was her age. She was about two inches shorter than himself. The girl stared back at him intently.

"John Watson?" the girl asked in a timid voice. They all looked at her.

"Yes?" John replied slightly shaken by this news.

"My name's Marie, Marie Jackson."


	2. Chapter 2

Here's the next chapter! been really bored recently so the next chapter is already nearly done! Will upload it ASAP! :) rate and review!

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Rose Jackson. How could he ever forget that name? She was beautiful, funny, clever and she didn't have a care in the world. That's why John loved her.

Whenever he looked into those green eyes he saw her; her smile, her joy, her innocence. That's all he needed. They were so deeply in love until the day she left. Why did she leave? All she had left him was a note which read:

John, I can't do this anymore. There's someone else in my life now. I will never forget you.

Rose x

It was short and painful. So painful that John couldn't trust anyone for a long time. So painful that he trained to be a doctor and joined the army. So painful he thought he could never love again. He never saw her again.

"Rose..." he said. Marie nodded. He put down the cups of tea and fell into his armchair. He put his head in his hands and sighed. The new person in her life, it wasn't another man, it was his child. "When did she..." he couldn't finish the question. He knew the answer would break his heart. There was a knock at the door and Sherlock sat upright. He knew it was Lestrade. Always the same knock, how predictable… Mrs Hudson left to answer the door.

"Three years ago." she said. She turned towards the door and thought it would be best if she just left. She began to walk towards the door when John asked "How?" she stopped in her tracks and looked at him in the eye.

"A man, a deceivingly nice man. We were all fooled." was her only reply and then she walked out of the door.

"Hello, what are you doing here?" asked Lestrade who bumped into Marie as she was walking out.

"She's John's daughter." said Sherlock bluntly, who had picked up his violin and was plucking the strings gently. "Have you finally got me a good murder?"

"Wait, John has a daughter? Why didn't you mention it before?"

"I didn't know..." said John quietly. He was not going to cry. He was over Rose. She was a thing of the past.

Marie knew she wasn't wanted so started to leave.

"Marie, wait." said John. She turned to her father. "You can stay here." she nodded and left to sit in the kitchen where there would be some peace.

Sherlock looked at his friend. "John we have two rooms, two beds. Where is she going to sleep?"

"She'll have to sleep in my room. I'll sleep on the sofa..." John stood up and walked to his room. Sherlock watched him go then drew his attention to the detective.

"You never answered my question Lestrade, have you found me a good murder?"

Lestrade looked at the girl sitting in the kitchen, who was staring intently at one of Sherlock's many experiments.

"Not a murder no..." he began but Sherlock interrupted him by sighing and started plucking his violin again. "But it is a suspicious suicide." Sherlock put down his violin.

"What do you mean suspicious?"


	3. Chapter 3

Next chapter = done! this is a long one but personally I think it's the best one so far... enjoy!

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"JOHN!" Sherlock cried "We've got a case!"

John came downstairs after being in his room for half an hour. Sherlock noticed his bloodshot eyes; he'd been crying.

"Hurry up John!" said Sherlock, who was secretly worried about his friend, but didn't know how to comfort someone, he didn't have that past experience.

"What about Marie?" he said.

"Who?"

"My daughter!"

"Oh... Well bring her along if you must but she can't touch anything."

"Sherlock I don't think..."

"No you shouldn't that's my job."

John frowned and looked at him.

"Is she coming or not?"

John sighed and went into the kitchen where the girl had remained. "Would you like to come with us?"

"Where?" the girl asked.

"To a suicide case."

The girl stood up instantly and nodded with a small smile. This was going to be good.

The three of them left 221B and got into a taxi. They drove to a huge mansion surrounded by police cars and an ambulance. Lestrade greeted the trio at the front gate.

"Brought your daughter with you then... Are you sure that's a good idea John?"

"I'm sure she's mature enough." said John smiling slightly. Mature. That was the first time someone had called her mature. A small smile crept up on Marie's face. That was the first time she had been complimented in years.

They entered the crime scene and straight away Donovan told Anderson the 'freak' was here. Sherlock ignored them as usual. No point arguing it was a waste of time. John and Sherlock looked at the dead body. Male, late twenties, high pressured job, well paid job, single...

"He was found by his maid, hung from the chandelier with his wrists slit." said Lestrade while Sherlock was examining the body.

"What time was this?" John asked while trying to work out how long the man had been dead.

"He was found at 5am when the maid first started her duty."

"None of the other staff noticed?"

"No all the staff were told to go home early. They claim he was drunk, but we're doing a blood test to see if he was."

"What time did they leave?"

"Around 8pm, an hour after he returned from work."

"And he's been dead for around sixteen hours, making the suicide at around 9pm.

It fits with their story..."

"He was murdered." said Sherlock with a smile.

"Sherlock, what have I said about enjoying-" he was interrupted by a giggle coming from Marie. They all turned and looked at her. She stopped laughing and turned away to look at the body. She crouched down so she could get a closer look. John and Lestrade carried on talking but Sherlock continued to watch the girl. She pulled up the blood stained sleeves and studied the slit wrists-

"Sherlock." John and Lestrade were looking at him.

"What?"

"Who killed him?"

"I don't know yet, who works here?"

"Sherlock everyone left at 8pm."

"Not everyone John. The murderer must have been in the house when the staff left. Lestrade told me was no sign of a break in and no one was seen entering the building on the security cameras. See John, when you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth." Marie looked up when he said that. She liked it. She just wished the police had thought that when her mother died.

"How do you know he was murdered?" asked Lestrade nodding in agreement to his previous statement.

"His foot was fractured, showing that he was trying to get away but was prevented from doing so, it hadn't had medical treatment so it was from the night he died. A man with that amount of money would have a private doctor on hold. Also there are two bruises on his neck, one from the rope and one from the tie suggesting he was strangled with his tie first then hung on the chandelier to make it look like he'd killed himself." while he was talking he noticed Marie had left. Good, he thought, now he didn't have any distractions. "he also had bruises from where he was dragged down the stairs so the murderer was strong but not strong enough to carry him. Could be a young woman or an older man-"

"Definitely an older man." said Marie who suddenly appeared again after going to look at the study where the victim was last seen alive. "His wrists, they had slight bruises in the shape of finger marks on them but only large male hands would be able to reach across both wrists. Look." she picked up the victim's arms and put them next to each other. "My hands are much to small to be able the clasp them together but if I do this..." she took the arms between her arm and hip. By this time Donovan and Anderson where also listening to the girl.

Sherlock just looked at her in shock. "You can see where the murderer kept his hands together to stop him from struggling. He must have strangled him with his tie while holding his hands or there would be no point to only using one hand.

Then after he killed him he thought he would be clever and try to make it look like suicide caused by depression by cutting his wrists but they were made with fluent movements across both wrists... If I adjust them here... There. You see the straight lines from the clean cuts. They were also all done with the same hand so the victim couldn't have done it, it would have been physically impossible. Also the murderer must have been left handed as the cut is deeper on the right arm and gets less deep as the knife would have moved to the left and there are four marks on his right wrist with the smallest being on the far right so it must have been his right hand holding them together. There was also no knife with his blood on, it must have come from the kitchen and cleaned, and why would a dead man clean up after himself?" she stopped and looked at the adults surrounding her to see if they were following. They all looked surprised at her knowledge.

"You figured all that out just by looking at his wrists?" asked Lestrade.

"Yeah, it's simple really..." she replied.

"Looks like you got some competition freak." said Donovan. Anderson chuckled.

"Shut up Anderson. Just looking at you has dropped my IQ by at least 10 points." said Sherlock, frowning. How could she have known that? She was right, it was simple but how could a 15 year old child figure that out?

"After this deduction it's obvious who the killer is." she continued "It was obviously a left handed, male member of staff in his mid fifties... Sherlock." she said and looked at him. She could already tell how he didn't like the fact a child knew as much as him so she let him take the final glory.

"The butler." he said, glad the girl had let him finish. "All day he has been itching his right hand between his thumb and first finger where he must have accidentally cut himself. He has been uncomfortable around the police when they were questioning him; he blamed his awkwardness on his shock. Also he has been trying to 'help' them by getting tea or whatever they may need, but made the mistake of only using his left hand to pour and write, making it clear he is left handed. The tired bags under his eyes show that he was awake trying to dispose of the body in a way that looks like his boss had committed suicide and had a sleepless night of regrets. His motive, easy. His daughter was recently attached to the victim but he left her for another woman, only to be dumped a week later. The butler suffers from schizophrenia and so has been paranoid about what the man may do for the last month. The only way he could prevent his doubts and worries was by disposing of the man. Honestly Lestrade, I thought this was going to be an interesting one. Oh well." Sherlock finished with a small smile and turned to John.

"How cliché." the doctor added.

"Donovan, arrest that man, take him down to the station."

"Yes sir." said the sergeant and left, quickly followed by Anderson.

"Thanks again Sherlock, John and er... What's your name darling?" Lestrade asked.

"Marie." she said with a small smile. "Marie Jackson"

"Well thank you very much Marie. See you soon Sherlock, John." the detective then left them.


	4. Chapter 4

Another chapter :) been really bored so two in the space of an hour :D hope you enjoy reading it :) rates and reviews would be really helpful!

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"That was brilliant!" John said smiling at his friend and his daughter. The girl smiled.

"Hardly John, that was an easy one. Even Anderson could have solved it." replied Sherlock. But this girl wasn't easy to solve. How could she have worked all that out? She was only a child, an uneducated child too.

"I was bored." she said while looking at him. He leant backwards in surprise to her answer. "I can tell you're trying to work me out. I was bored. I try to remember everything I see and do and make connections. I may not always understand the things I see but they come in useful eventually. Also the police don't understand how to solve problems." Sherlock looked at her. "I worked out how my mother was killed..." she stopped and looked out the window. "They didn't listen to a 12 year old..."

"But what about the unimportant things? Things that won't help you in any way?"

She sighed. "It goes up there anyway. I don't know what I need to know and what I don't yet."

Sherlock looked at the girl. She was ordinary but she puzzled him. He didn't like being puzzled. All he really knew was that she was much cleverer than he previously thought.

"Did you seriously go to Buckingham palace in just a sheet? That is priceless!" said Marie while laughing.

"Yes." said Sherlock while smiling. "And I stole an ash tray."

She laughed louder "That's brilliant!"

John was laughing too at this point. The stories they were telling her made her think abut how brilliant a man could be. He was so clever and unique. She had never met anyone like him.

She had been living with them for two weeks now. She was starting to feel like part of a family, the first time in three years.

Then there was a knock on the door.

"Client?" John asked Sherlock.

"No, their knock was far too rapid..."

Marie stood from the sofa to look out the window to see who it was.

"Oh my god it's Jake!" she almost shouted and sprinted out the door. Sherlock and John looked at each other, puzzled about who this 'Jake' was.

Marie opened the door quickly and hugged him in the street. "Oh my god Jake!" was all she could say.

"Marie I thought he'd got you too. I thought I'd lost you." he said embracing her.

"How did you find me?"

"I stood up to him."

She held him at arms length. "Wait what? Are you ok? Did he hurt you?"

"I'm fine, I'm fine." he smiled at her. "He was kinda glad I came, said he wanted to get rid of me too so he just told me where you were and kicked me out.

I came straight here."

"Come in, come in." she said and took his hand. She lead him upstairs into the living room where John was still sitting. Sherlock stood by the left hand window and had picked up his violin and started playing one of his own pieces while John listened. John loved hearing him play. It relaxed him. The first night Marie had stayed at 221B Sherlock had stayed up and played for him until he fell asleep. Sherlock may not be a man who shows his emotions, but he can understand them and he will help his few friends, no matter what.

Jake looked into the room. It had character. He liked it. He looked at the man playing the violin. "Oh my god you live with Sherlock Holmes!" he said suddenly and turned to his friend. She was laughing at him.

"So?"

"So? So you're living with a genius! Does he always wear a deer stalker?"

Sherlock stopped playing and frowned at the newcomer. "Not the bloody ear hat again..."

"Sherlock he's only seen what's been in the news. The only pictures they seem to have of you are you and your deer stalker hat." replied Marie defensively.

"Marie leave the ear hat alone." John warned while trying to hold back his laugh but failing miserably. Sherlock looked out the window. "So who is your... friend?"

"This is Jake, we've been friends since... Well forever really. Our mothers where friends when we were young." John held out his hand to Jake.

"Nice to meet you, Jake. My name's John, John Watson."

"My real dad." she said with a proud smile. Jake looked at them, they did look similar...

Sherlock began playing again. A faster piece this time. He was bored of this boy. He was so common and dull. Dark hair, not dyed but he wished it was lighter as he kept looking at Marie's then touching his own, brown eyes, nothing interesting, cared about Marie a lot, he kept touching her arm while in conversation with her and John, he hadn't come straight here, he'd gone home and changed, obviously something she had said she had liked before as they were kept in pristine condition, trainers, appear to look new but they have been cleaned and the laces have frayed a little, likes what he's got-

"Sherlock." John said while looking at him, he realised he had almost stopped playing. He put down the violin and grabbed his coat and scarf.

"I'm going to St. Barts." he said ad walked out the door. He hoped there would be an interesting death that Molly could show him. At least she'd be better company than the happy family.


	5. Chapter 5

had a long journey today so wrote a few chapters! hope you enjoy them :) R&R :)

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"Oh Sherlock I wasn't expecting you..." said Molly, as she walked into the lab to find Sherlock looking into a microscope.

"Hello Molly. No you weren't. I needed some space."

"Why? Did you er... have an argument with John?"

"No but 221B has been too crowded lately... Do you have any hands I could use?"

"Why do you need... Wait what do you mean, crowded?"

"John has a daughter." he said bluntly without taking his eyes from the microscope. "Do you have any hands I could use?"

"What?"

"Hands."

"No, I mean about John. He has a daughter?"

"Yes Molly I told you that already. She was dumped on us after a man, who I believe to be her step father, came to the flat two weeks ago. She's already bringing friends round, Molly, friends. I preferred it when it was just John and myself but she's clever... Very clever..." he looked up from his microscope.

"She is 15 years old and she could workout who a murderer was by just looking at the victim's wrists."

"But that's impossible..." Molly laughed slightly until Sherlock looked at her seriously. "She couldn't do that, only you could do that... Unless she's a bit like you..."

Sherlock looked at her. No, she was nothing like him. She had friends but he did have John. That gave him a small smile. "Hands?" he asked Molly again. She gave up asking about the girl, nodded and walked out the lab to find him some.

"Fascinating... Look John..." he looked up into the empty room. It was cold and dark. Sherlock took out his phone.

St Barts, come alone. - SH

Why? - JW

Just come. - SH

"I'm going out." said John while putting on his coat. "Don't wait up I might be

a while."

"Where are you going?" asked Marie.

"Sherlock."

Marie nodded. She knew she had been getting between them recently. She was guilty.

"What do you think of him?" asked Jake.

"Who?"

"John, your dad."

"He's nice."

"What's wrong?"

"I don't belong here Jake. You can see it for yourself. They were happier without me here." she rested her head on his shoulder.

"You're lucky, Marie. You get to see all those crime scenes and you're friends with Sherlock Holmes!"

"He doesn't understand me." she said with a sigh. "He looks at me with confusion. I look in his eyes and I can see the cogs in his brain ticking away all the time." she looked at her friend.

There was a knock at the door.

Marie stood up. "Must be a client or something..." she went to answer the door.

"Ah so you must be Marie." said a tall man with an umbrella.

"Yes... And you are?"

"Mycroft-"

"Oh the famous Mycroft Holmes." she said mockingly. "Come in." she opened the door wider so he could enter. He walked up the stairs to find Jake still sitting on the sofa.

"I should go..." he said "Bye Marie..."

"Bye Jake." she hugged her friend and he left. "Tea?" she asked the man walking toward the window.

"No, thank you." he said turning to the girl. "I only came to give this to

Sherlock." he gave her a file. "I need him to work it out..." She opened the file. "Tell him it is of national importance." he said while looking at her staring at the pages intently. "It shouldn't take him long."

"No it looks quite simple really..." she said while flicking through the pages.

He frowned at her comment. "Why are you giving it to him?"

"No one has a mind like Sherlock Holmes." and with that he left.

Strange, she thought, how did he know her name?

For the next hour she read through the file trying to make deductions. She had spread it out across the floor and by the time she had gone through two mugs of tea, Sherlock and John returned.

"Marie? What's going on?" asked John with a confused frown on his face.

"Mycroft came by and gave you a case." she said without removing her eyes from the paper. "Why is it all over the floor?"

"Because she's trying to solve it..." said Sherlock looking at the pieces of paper with her scribbles on it."Did Mycroft say it was of national importance?"

"Yeah, he said it wouldn't take long so I thought I'd have a go."

"Hmm..." he said and sat in his armchair. He put his hands together and placed them on his chin. A small frown appeared on his face as he watched her.

"Tea?" asked John when he had taken his coat off.

"Black, two sugars." said Marie. A small smile crept onto her face as she solved the case.

Sherlock looked at her more intently. Maybe she was more like him than he thought.

"Call Mycroft." she told him while gathering the paper together and returning it to the file. "Tell him it's with the Russians but the files are safe as long as he gets them before Thursday. His assistant sold them for a profit, tried to cover it up but there's a loophole." she dumped the files on his lap and took the cup of tea from her father.

"Cheers." she said and walked to her room with a smile on her face.


	6. Chapter 6

Solved the same day I gave it to you? New record. -MH

Marie solved it. She was bored. - SH

You trust her judgement? - MH

I checked it. She was right. - SH

Sherlock put his phone away. He didn't want to talk to his brother. He looked at his current experiment, then at John reading his paper. Sherlock thought back to when he was 15...

_"SHERLOCK!" His father bellowed from the front room. He sighed and walked down the tall spiral staircase that lead to his room at the top of the house. He liked it up there. It made him more distant from his family._

_"Yes father?" he asked not looking up from the rubix cube he was solving. It took him 10 seconds. _

_"Your brother is home. Where were you? You were meant to greet him at the door with us!" he took the rubix cube out of his hand and threw it across the room. _

_He slapped Sherlock across the back of his head._

_"Sorry..." he said while rubbing where he had been hit._

_"Hello Sherlock." said his brother looking at him in the eye. Sherlock didn't feel as intimidated by his brother anymore, not now that he had overtaken him in height in during Mycroft's final year of university._

_"Mycroft." he said. He looked at his brother. New suit, wanted to impress mother and father, looked smug so obviously wanted to show off his new job in the government... Being the government-_

_"And how is my favourite brother?"_

_"I'm your only brother." he said and looked down at him._

_"Sherlock!" his mother said and scowled at him._

_"It's fine mother." said Mycroft. "He's just jealous that I'm getting attention and not him." _

_Sherlock frowned at his brother. Not true at all. He hated attention. The more distant he was from his family the better._

_"So what's your new job?" asked Sherlock trying to avoid awkward chit chat and get back to his room. It was clear that his new job was why he was there._

_"It's government stuff Sherlock. I wouldn't expect you to understand." Mycroft said with a sly smile. He knew he would but he enjoyed making his parents believe his little brother was an idiot. Being the favourite out of the duo, it wasn't hard to do._

_"Can I go to my room?" Sherlock asked his father who frowned._

_"Fine." he said and Sherlock picked up his rubix cube and ran back upstairs. _

_He sat at his desk and looked at the newspaper his father had left for him to read. Carl Powers? Mysteriously died after a fit in the water... For once something interesting in the news. _

_He sneaked down the stairs and and down the hallway. He heard his parents talking to his brother about his new government job. They were so proud. He wasn't jealous but he didn't like his brother getting too much attention from his parents. Who knows what he might say about Sherlock? _

_He went out the door and ran to his bike. He rode to the swimming pool where the incident happened. It was closed off by the police but he snuck in through the back door. He found the locker with Carl Power's stuff inside. He leant to look at what contents there were, moving his dark curly hair out of his face. Where were his shoes?_

_"Oi! You!" shouted a voice. Sherlock ran outside knowing it was the police. He jumped onto his bike and cycled as fast as he could. No one followed. He slowed his pace but it began to rain heavily. It was 2 miles to his house. How was he going to explain him being this drenched? He sighed and continued cycling. His hair was sticking to his face and his clothes became heavy. The wind was pushing against him, making it harder to cycle and he was getting colder and colder. He saw the rain wasn't going to stop any time soon so he took a detour. _

_He rode nearer the centre of London. He liked central London. There were so many different people he could analyse and make deductions about. But he always rode down the same road, Baker Street. He liked it. He would like to live their when free of his parents. He smiled at the older woman putting out the rubbish. Mrs _

_Hudson her name was, they had spoken on several occasions, even though Sherlock wasn't very good at socialising. He stopped at speedy's and got a tea, black, two sugars, to try and warm up. He looked at his hands and saw they were shaking from the cold. Any other person may have thought he was afraid, afraid of his parents. Ha, emotions, they pulled you back._

_He returned to his bike and cycled home. No point keeping father waiting any longer. He knew he had a beating ahead of him._

"Sherlock?"

"Yes John?" said Sherlock, looking back into his microscope.

"We have a client."


	7. Chapter 7

"Sherlock?" asked Marie.

"Yes Marie?" he answered turning to look at her from his experiment. John had left to get groceries.

"I'm leaving." she said seriously. Her bag was on her shoulder and had her hands in her coat pocket.

"Where will you go?" he frowned. Why would she leave now? Fear of Moriarty? No, she wasn't scared of him, she was brave. Well he thought so, considering she took on a murderer with nothing but her fists.

"To Jake's. You and John need space, especially with Moriarty returning..." she paused. "Be careful Sherlock, I mean it." she had a worried expression on her face. He stood up and held out his hand. She took it and they shook hands.

"Thank you Sherlock." she said and began to walkout of the door. "oh yeah." she span round. "Be good in court; don't show off." she smiled and walked out the flat, down the stairs and onto the street. He picked up his violin and watched her from the window. He began to play as he watched her get into a taxi and disappear into the night.

"Sherlock where's Marie?" asked John when he returned.

"Gone."

"Gone? Gone where?"

"To live with a friend. She thought we needed... Space..."

"I can't believe this..." he sat down. She left without saying goodbye, just like her mother. "I'm going to bed."

Sherlock didn't reply, he just continued playing his violin. John walked slowly to his room. First time he would have slept in there in a month and a half. He stepped in. The bed was neatly done with the covers folded at the end of the bed. He changed into his pyjamas and got into bed. His friend was due in court tomorrow. He needed his rest. He knew it would be a challenge, especially as it was Sherlock.

She walked into her friend's house. Nice, cleaned especially for her arrival, vacuum cleaner still in the corner and the surfaces had been very recently cleaned-

"Marie!" said Jake and he hugged her.

"Hey Jake, how've you been?" she looked distant, it wasn't home to her. The only time she had felt that warmth was at 221B.

"I'm good, you?"

"Fine." she couldn't be bothered with general chit chat. "Where will I be sleeping?"

"In the spare room," he looked at her, he knew something was different. "This way..." he took her hand and led her upstairs to her room. It was plain and simple. Cream walls, a bed, a chest of drawers and a wardrobe. It was nothing like home.

"Thanks Jake." she said and laid down on the bed and closed her eyes. Jake knew she wanted to be left alone so gave a weak smile and left her alone.

Moriarty was back. How could he be back? He ruined her life three years ago. It wasn't going to happen again.


	8. Chapter 8

Last one for today!

* * *

She had been at Jake's house for a week now. It was boring. She missed John and Sherlock so much. Their life was an adventure... Well most days. Other times she'd woken up to the sound of gunshots with "Not again Sherlock!"

The memories brought a smile to her face. She was interrupted by the door bell ringing. Short and sweet. They were impatient... She heard Jake's mother's footsteps.

She thought back to the court case. How did he do it? How could he be free? It was impossible. All the evidence was against him-

Her thought process was interrupted by a gunshot and a scream.

"MARIE!" she heard Jake shout. She sat up. "RUN! HE'S HERE! GO, NOW!"

BANG! Another gun shot. She quickly grabbed her bag and the little amount of money she had left. How did he find her?

"Marie..?" said the sing song Irish voice. "Where are you hiding Marie?"

She jumped out the window and ran across the conservatory. He looked up at her.

"There!" he shouted and two men with guns shot at the glass under her feet. She leaped off the roof and landed on the soft grass. She kept running, never looking back.

She panted as she turned the corner. She paused to catch her breath. She picked up the newspaper from the bin in front of her. A fake? How could they think he was a fake? She threw the newspaper back in the bin angrily. She couldn't do anything about it now. All she could do was keep on running.

* * *

She pulled the blanket around her tightly.

"Happy birthday Marie." she said to herself as the sun rose four days later. She got up and stretched her arms. She began to walk. She couldn't stay in one place for longer than a day or Moriarty would find her. She decided to walk by St. Barts. Memories of her father and Sherlock flooded her head. She looked up the tall building to see someone peering over the edge. No,not him. Moriarty gave her a sly smile only to be suddenly grabbed by a tall figure.

"Sherlock..." she sighed, looking at the men. She saw them disappear from the edge so she ran across the street to see if she could see them again. She heard a gunshot. Sherlock? No!

She sighed of relief when she saw him standing close to the edge, too close. She turned to see John come out of a taxi not too far behind her. She hid so he couldn't see her but his phone rang. She looked up to Sherlock who was holding his phone to his ear. She knew what he was doing.

No, he couldn't, he can't! He's just so brilliant! Why?

Her thoughts were interrupted by seeing him jump and her father screaming "SHERLOCK!"

She stood from where she was hiding and watched her father run to his friend.

Tears started to fall from her eyes and her hands were shaking.

"No..." was all she could whisper.

He was gone.


	9. Chapter 9

She sat awake in the doorway to an empty shop, tears streaming down her face. She hadn't known him long, but it was enough to make her grieve. She looked up at the stars. She smiled.

_"Come on Sherlock, it's easy!"  
"But I don't need to know it!"  
"Mercury, Venus, Earth, Mars, Jupiter-" she was interrupted by Sherlock playing a fast paced piece on his violin. She laughed. He smiled at her and slowed down the tempo of the song. She closed her eyes and listened to the beautiful tune..._

She missed him. She missed her father. She wanted to be back at 221B, making tea for the man staring into his microscope and assisting her father on his blog. Those happy memories were all she had left. Her friends had been killed, her family had been killed. Only her father remained.

She stood up when she saw dawn on the horizon. It was a long walk to Baker Street. She was going to be there for her father. Already she saw workers setting up their stalls, including a newspaper one. She looked at them. 'Death of a fake genius' she read. Fake? The anger swelled up inside her.

"NO!" she screamed and began pulling the newspapers to the ground, ripping them in anger.

"WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?" a voice yelled at her. She looked up, a policeman. She ran as fast as she could, her weak body trying to outrun the policeman who inevitably caught up with her and tackled her to the ground.

Tears fell onto her cheeks. She was so hungry, so alone and now she was going to be arrested. She felt the coldness of the handcuffs on her wrists as she was hauled to her feet.

"Public menace..." the policeman said as he dragged her towards a police car.

"Marie?"

"Greg." she looked at the man leaving the police car.

"What's going on?"

"Attacked a man selling newspapers and avoided arrest." said the policeman dragging her by her arm.

"You can go." he said to the man.

"But sir..."

"I said you can go." he looked at the man. He shrugged and walked away.

"Sherlock's gone Greg, he's gone..." was all she could say before braking down into tears again. She fell to her knees.

"I know Marie..." he said while kneeling down next to her. "He was a good man. I'm sure he had his reasons for..." he couldn't say it. "for... For killing himself."

"I was there... I saw Moriarty... I could've done something, said something-"

"Shhh... Now now..." he said while removing the handcuffs. "You couldn't have done anything. What happened, happened okay?"

She looked up at the older man. Then she was confused. "What are you doing?" she asked. She wouldn't have expected to see him just sitting in a police car.

"I'm on a case." he said. "Normally I would be with Donovan but I can't stand to be around her, not today. I know what she would say about Sherlock..."

She nodded. "Stupid bitch..."

Greg smiled. "Now why are you alone in the middle of London?"

"I left..." she began. She held back her tears. "I went to stay with my friend... He's gone... He got him too..."

Greg looked her in the eye. "Marie, its okay to cry." he stood up and offered her his hand. She took it and pulled herself up. "You're not alone in this. You have your father."

She looked at him. He was right. She knew John cared for her and she did for him, but she didn't want to see him now, not yet.

"Do you want me to take you to him?" he asked while opening the passenger door of the police car.

"Not yet." she said. "But can you take me somewhere else?"

He nodded and got in the car. He set the car into motion and they sat silently.

"Here you go..." he said. He was unsure why she had chosen to visit a psychiatrist's home, but she thanked him and left the car. She sat down just outside the large window at the back of the building. It began to rain. She didn't care, but when she heard his voice, she didn't know if it was her tears or raindrops on her face.

"My best friend... Sherlock Holmes... Is dead."


	10. Chapter 10

She watched him leave and get into a taxi. She stood from behind the wall where she was watching.

It was time.

She began walking, no money for a taxi, no phone to call Lestrade. A chill in the air sent a shiver down her spine. The rain had stopped but her clothes were still dripping with water. She took off her hoodie and squeezed out the excess water.

It took her 2 hours to reach Baker Street. She still didn't know what she was going to say to her father. She looked up at the building. The last time she was here was the last time she saw Sherlock...

She breathed in deeply and let out a sigh. This was it.

She walked up to the door and knocked three times. She heard footsteps. She easily recognised them to be Mrs Hudson's and smiled at her. The older woman didn't say a word, just hugged her. She had never thought she would need a hug so much in her life. She let go and gave her a nod. She walked up the stairs slowly, not wanting to alarm her father by making a scene. Then she saw him. It broke her heart. She couldn't prevent her sharp intake of breath.

He looked up. "Marie?" he asked, doubting his own senses. He looked her up and down. She had lost so much weight and she had dirt on her face. Something had gone wrong, very wrong. He stood up and started waking towards her. "Marie what happened? Are you okay-"

"Don't you dare." she said looking at her father. "Don't you dare start worrying about me. Not after everything that's happened.." she looked him in the eye. His eyes were so sad, so empty, so alone. "Tea?" was all she could say in a shaky voice. He half smiled and hugged her tightly.

"I thought I'd lost you too..." he said. She could hear his breathing become less consistent and shaky. She could tell he was trying not to cry.

"It's ok to cry." she said repeating Lestrade's wise words. He heard soft sobs coming from her father. They stood there for a while, just in each other's arms.

She felt her fathers grip strengthen slightly before he let go.

"What happened?" he asked her as he sat down on the sofa.

"Him." was all she said in reply. He nodded, knowing exactly who she was talking about. The bastard. Ruining his life was one thing, but ruining his daughter's too was taking it too far.

"I hate him."

"He killed my friends and family. I hate him."

"Family?" he looked in her eyes.

She froze. She had never told him about Moriarty and her mother. She opened and closed her mouth a few times. She couldn't speak.

"Rose?" he asked. She nodded. He sighed and took her hand in his.

"Stay here." he said with a slight hopeful gleam in his eyes. "I'll sleep on the sofa, just stay here." he half begged.

"I'll sleep on the sofa." she said in reply. She knew the last thing he needed was a bad night's sleep. He squeezed her hand lightly and stood up.

"Goodnight Marie." he said as he stood up.

"Goodnight... Dad." she said. A warm feeling grew inside his heart. That was the first time she had called him dad, not John. He smiled slightly.

As he climbed into bed he thought things may not be as bad as he thought; that was until he remembered his friend's, his only friend's last words: goodbye, John.

"Goodbye, Sherlock." he whispered into the night.


	11. Chapter 11

_Going to put on the next 4 chapters for you! Hope you enjoy!_

* * *

Marie hated funerals. Yesterday she had attended her good friend Jake's and his mother's. She came home full of sadness and depression. They were killed the same way as her mother, she had escaped the same way, she had mourned the same way. She never got to say goodbye...

Tomorrow would be Sherlock's funeral. She was deep in thought until she accidentally poured some boiling water on her hand.

"Ow!" she exclaimed and ran her hand under hot water while stirring the cup of tea with her good hand. She gave John the cup of tea and looked at her father. He was so sad. He tried to look happy for her but she could see it in his eyes. They had lost their shine.

She left John's room and walked up the stairs and opened the door to Sherlock's room. She sat down on the empty carpet and closed her eyes. She always felt safe on his room. She could still smell his faint scent...

She sighed. Too young to die, she thought. He was brilliant, amazing, fantastic, incredible but everyone thought he was a fake. How could they be so stupid? Donovan, Lestrade, Anderson; Moriarty had poisoned their minds. How could they not see that? She was getting angry. She opened her eyes.

"I believe in you Sherlock Holmes." she said to the empty room.

She looked at the periodic table on his wall. He must have looked at that every night before he slept, well, the nights he actually came to bed anyway. She sighed and closed her eyes again.

"Marie?" she heard her father call. She stood and walked back out the door, closing it silently behind her. She knew he hadn't been in Sherlock's room since the incident. She knew it would be too hard for him. He hardly left his room anymore, it was the only place that wasn't touched by Sherlock's presence. She had a small smile on her face when she saw him standing in the doorway of the living area. She was proud that he'd got so far as to walk out his room.

"Dad?"

He leant against the doorframe. She could tell he was remembering him. He looked at the skull. He slowly walked over and picked it up.

"Dad, are you okay?" she asked. When she got no reply, she turned and left to see Mrs Hudson. Whatever he had originally wanted, it didn't matter anymore. He needed to be alone.

"I miss you Sherlock." he said to the skull in front of him. "I never thought I would have a friend as amazing as you. You're brilliant." he sighed and laughed slightly at himself. "Look at me, I'm talking to a skull..." he put down the skull where he found it. He walked round the room slowly, memories flooding his head. A camera in the bookcase, Sherlock continuously commenting on his blog, the smiley face on the wall with holes in its face from Sherlock's boredom, the drug raid... So many times.

* * *

John sat in the back of the dark car with Mrs Hudson, his daughter in the front. Marie looked in the rear view mirror to see her father looking forward with a very serious, sad expression. She clasped the single rose in her shaking hands and closed her eyes. An image of Sherlock appeared in her head saying _"Flowers, why do they always give them flowers? They're dead John, they can't tell if they have flowers or not."_A small smile crept on her face. It's because they don't know what else to do, she thought, it's too late to say goodbye.

Marie placed her rose on top of the grave and stood back away from the dark gravestone. She left the pair at the graveside to pay their respects privately and began walking around the graveyard. She saw them talking to each other, Mrs Hudson seemed angry and sad at the same time. Bless her, she thought. They had known him so much longer than her. She saw her begin to walk towards the church as her father stayed and talked to the grave. She felt tears fall down her cheeks. Seeing him broke her heart. She began walking towards the church as she saw John turn on his heel, but then she saw a tall figure. Her heart skipped a beat.

There he stood.

Blue scarf and that long dark coat.

Those dark curly locks.

Sherlock Holmes, back from the dead.


	12. Chapter 12

He watched the doctor walking to the church.

"I'm sorry John." he said and turned around to find the teenager staring at him in shock. He froze. They both stood looking at each other.

"Sherlock?" her voice broke. She couldn't believe her eyes. She blinked hard twice. He was still there. She took a step forward. Panic spread over the man's face. She couldn't know about him, she would tell John, he wouldn't be safe anymore...

She took another step forward. He couldn't turn and run, John would see him. He looked the girl up and down. A smile began to appear on her face.

"Sherlock is that really you?" she asked rubbing her eyes to prevent tears from falling, tears, for once, of joy. She took the last few steps forward, close enough to smell his familiar scent, and looked up at the man. She reached out her hand and touched his chest. She felt his beating heart.

She removed her hand and looked him in the eye, for once she could tell what he was thinking, feeling; he wasn't locking away his emotions. She saw the slight shine to his eye as he put his hand on her shoulder. He was sad but determined.

His eyes were an icy blue rather than their usual cool blue, he was angry and frustrated and annoyed. Yet there was still a small glimmer of hope in his cold eyes, hope that he could see John happy again.

She stepped back slightly and slapped him in the face. He looked down at her, more shocked than ever before, then he realised.

"John..." he said and looked away from her cold stare.

"Sherlock how could you?" she said in an angry whisper.

"Marie, look-"

"No, Sherlock, you look. Look at your friend." she said pointing in John's direction. "Every day I see him cry over you. He doesn't leave his room. He thinks your dead Sherlock!"

"I know but-"

"Don't you dare." she said. He frowned at her. Why wouldn't she let him explain? "Don't you dare." she wiped away the tear in her eye. "Nothing, nothing you can say will make him feel any better. He's alone now Sherlock! Not me or Mrs Hudson or Lestrade or anyone else can replace you! You're incredible Sherlock Holmes, but you've taken it too far-"

"Now you listen to me," he said, he was starting to get angry at the girl. "If I hadn't faked my death, he would be dead."

She looked at him. She could tell he was telling the truth...

"But why?" she asked, trying not to cry. "Why didn't you tell him Sherlock? Why did you tell him you were a fake?" her voice broke on the last word. "I know you're not a fake..."

He looked at the girl. He saw the hurt and anger inside her. He felt guilt. He never felt guilt. He had disposed of emotions that draw you back a long time ago. He sighed and placed his on her shoulder.

"Three bullets, three friends." he began. "If I hadn't jumped off that building, Moriarty would have killed Lestrade, Mrs Hudson and John." he waited for the girl to answer him back but she was being patient. He looked at theman striding towards the church. "If he thought I was a fake, I thought he would forget about me more easily..."

"No Sherlock, he will never forget about you, never in a million years." he looked at her. "He trusted you Sherlock, he never doubted you, ever. He thought you were brilliant remember?" she said and the man's mouth twitched into a smile at the sides. John Watson, he was such a trustworthy man. "How did you do it Sherlock?"

"Do what?"

She smirked slightly "So much for deductions." she laughed slightly. "It was Molly, wasn't it? She helped you didn't she?" he nodded in reply. He knew this girl was clever.

"Marie?" they heard the distant voice of Mrs Hudson calling. "Dear we need to go!"

She turned to Sherlock.

"Goodbye Marie. Look after John..." was the last thing he said before she nodded watched him walk across the graveyard, into the trees in the distance.

"Goodbye," she said once he'd disappeared. "Sherlock Holmes."


	13. Chapter 13

She walked across the graveyard dazed. She had just seen a dead man walking. She laughed at herself. She had just gone through an emotional roller coaster.

"I'm not going back to the flat... I can't..." said John as Marie approached the pair standing by the gate.

"Where will you go?" she asked with a slight frown of concern on her face.

"I'm going to stay at Harry's." he said and touched her shoulder, right where Sherlock had touched her. A wave of guilt passed through her. She couldn't tell him, it would put him in danger. Moriarty may be dead, but he still had men out there. "You can come if you like, unless you want to stay at the flat, help Mrs Hudson with..." he paused looked down at the ground and back up and her. "with Sherlock's things."

"You need some time to yourself." she said to him. "Don't worry about me." she put her hand on his on her shoulder. "You need your family, your old family, your family that have known you all your life. You don't need the burden of me on your hands. I'll be fine. I'll be waiting for when your ready." she took away her hand and walked towards the car.

She said goodbye to her father with a long hug before he entered his sister's house. Mrs Hudson gave her a sympathetic look.

"You're a brave girl, Marie." she said to the younger girl.

"Thank you." she said. She didn't know what to do with herself. She was confused with her emotions. Now she understood why Sherlock had tried to remove them from his mind palace.

Mrs Hudson and Marie took a seat in the car and took out her phone. She looked at the blank screen. A month ago she would have found texts from Jake or Mycroft or John or Sherlock, all gone from her life now. She clutched the cold plastic in her hands. She looked at her background of herself and Jake. She wiped away the tear falling down her cheek. How many tears had she shred in the last few weeks? So many... Too many...

She looked out the window of the car. She watched trees flash by, people, couples, children, pets, dogs, benches, bus stops, parked cars. The world was so boring. The more she watched the world pass by, the more she understood

Sherlock's frame if mind.

The car pulled up outside 221B. She sighed and looked at the black door. She opened the door and looked at the man in front of her.

"Marie Jackson?" he asked, recorder in hand, notepad in pocket, pressure marks on his wrist from his watch, obviously he had been moving it and looking at the time, he had been waiting a while, pen in his pocket. Reporter.

"What do you want?" she said while walking towards the door. He stood in her way, pulling out his recorder.

"You've just returned from Sherlock Holmes' funeral, how are you feeling? Sad, angry, bereaved?"

"No comment." she tried to walk past the man. She was angry. He kept getting in her way. She took the direct approach by walking towards him. He didn't move.

"But what about your father? Too depressed to return home after the loss of his best friend? Or was he more than a friend?"

"What the hell are you implying?" she shouted angrily.

"But who was Sherlock Holmes? He was a fraud. How did that make you feel?"

She stormed past him towards the building, where Mrs Hudson was holding the door open for her. He grabbed her arm.

"Get off!" she shouted while hitting his hand. She managed to free her arm and grabbed his recorder from his hand. "One comment, that is all I will give you." she pressed the record button. "I believe in Sherlock Holmes." she placed the recorder in his pocket and looked him in the eye. "Give that to your fucking editor." she said and walked into the door, slamming it behind her. She sighed, leant against the door and slid to the floor. Mrs Hudson looked at her and gave her a small smile. She returned the smile before slowly standing and walking into the living area. A huge smile spread across her face. She felt happy rather than depressed when stepping into the room. He was alive! She fell onto her back on the sofa. She felt a box under her back. She removed the cushion to find a box of nicotine patches. She laughed.

_"Sherlock, I thought you were only meant to wear one of them at a time?" she said, stifling a laugh._

_"This is a three patch problem, Marie. John and Mrs Hudson took away all my cigarettes..." he said frustratingly looking at the ceiling. _

_"What are you confused about?"_

_He frowned "I'm not confused... I just haven't made the right connections yet..."_

_"Yeah yeah Sherlock." she winked and took her tea upstairs. A few minutes later she heard a loud "YES!" come from Sherlock. _

_"Finally got it then..." she said to herself and smirked._

She smiled at the memory. She was unsure if he would return to 221B but she knew he was out there and that was a huge comfort for her.

She slept easier that night than she had in a long time.

Too well.

She never would have expected what happened next.


	14. Chapter 14

She woke with a splitting pain on the side of her head. She winced and the pain and she lifted her head. She realised her hands were tied behind her and her feet tied to legs of a chair. She opened her eyes slightly, only to find it was too bright and closed them suddenly. A small groan escaped from her lips.

"Aaaah," she heard a Scottish voice say. His accent wasn't very strong but it still remained. "The baby Sherlock was awoken."

Baby Sherlock? She frowned and opened her eyes again, embracing the bright light.

"What? I'm clever and know Sherlock Holmes; that makes me a baby Sherlock?

Great..." she felt a hard slap on her face. The original pain on her head had worsened as she felt sticky blood fall down the side of her face from her temple.

"Oh very feisty!" he mocked her. He slowly circled her, like a lion stalking its prey.

"What do you want?" she asked while tugging on the handcuffs around her wrists.

These were good handcuffs...

"I want you to tell me where Sherlock Holmes is." he said as he leaned onto the arms of the chair, getting into her personal space. She looked back at him.

"Sherlock Holmes is dead." she said in what she hoped was a confident yet sad tone.

"You're LYING!" he shouted as he stood up and turned away from her. "I know you've seen him, Marie Jackson. I have... Contacts..." he turned towards her with a sly smile.

"Yes I saw him." she began. "I saw him fall from the roof of St. Barts, I saw his coffin, I saw his grave. He is dead."

He laughed at her. "You're very brave to lie to me Marie..." he said while cracking his knuckles. "And you have such a pretty little face..." he slapped her again. She could feel the pain throbbing through the side of her face but she didn't flinch. She wasn't going to give him the satisfaction.

"I can hurt you Marie." He said as he stood behind her. He bent down and whispered in her ear. "I can tear you apart, bit by bit..." he waited for a reaction. He frowned. She should have reacted by now. He put his hands on her shoulders. "You're 16 Marie, don't pretend to be grown up. You're a baby, a baby Sherlock." she stared into the darkness, ignoring his words.

He stood up behind her and took out a pair of scissors. he grabbed some of her hair. "I don't have to hurt you Marie..." he said as he began slicing through the brunette curls. "But I will humiliate you if you don't answer my questions..."

Snip, snip, snip.

She loved her hair, but Sherlock was more important. She carried on looking into the darkness.

"What questions?" she asked and the man stopped.

"Going to help me now?" he asked with a small smile on his face.

"What questions?" she repeated. What did he know about Sherlock? But more importantly, what didn't he know?

"Where is he?" he said while circling her chair again, looking at the scissors in his hand. She saw the faint outline of a gun in his top pocket.

"Six feet under." she replied, watching the light bounce off the blades in his hand.

He smirked. "Oh you're a funny one aren't you..." he said as he walked closer. He threw away the scissors and got out a knife instead. He sliced through her shirt, revealing her bare stomach underneath. He held the knife to her. "Where is Sherlock Holmes?" he repeated.

"I told you," she looked him in the eye. "he's dead."

He laughed and removed the knife. He made a small incision on her left forearm.

He waited for a response until he saw the scars in her wrist.

"Ah, self harm." he gutted at her. He placed the knife at her wrists. "Naughty," slice, "naughty," slice, "naughty!" slice.

She felt the blood drip from her wrist to the ground.

"Okay, new question..." he took a step back. "How did he survive?"

"He didn't." she said looking at the ground.

"Let me try this again..." he said and clasped one of her hands. He took hold of her first finger. "How," snap, he moved onto the next finger, "did," snap, she squeezed her eyes shut and bit her lower lip so she wouldn't cry out in pain, "he," snap, "survive?" snap. He threw her hand back down. A gasp left her mouth.

He smirked.

"Tell me Marie..."

She bit her tongue, trying not to cry. Her breathing was unsettled and inconsistent.

"He didn't..." she repeated.

He sighed and slapped her face. "I told you not to lie to me Marie..." he stood in front of her then leant in close to the girl. He placed his head by her ear and said "I'm going to take these off you now..." she heard the handcuffs click. He took his knife to her legs and sliced the rope in one clean cut. He turned around. "Stand." he said and she stood.

She clasped her hand in the other and inspected the damage. It hurt so much...

She felt something hit the back of her knees and she fell to the ground. "That's it, kneel to me..." he heard the voice mock her. He placed a hand on her head. He slid it down to cup her face. He bent down and looked the girl in the eye.

"Who are you?" she asked confidently. The last thing she was going to do was let this man intimidate her.

"Sebastian Moran," he said as he sniffed at her neck. He was starting to get really creepy... "but you can call me Seb..." he winked at her.

"Why do you think Sherlock's still alive?" she asked.

"Hey!" he said and clasped her hair in his hands, pulling on it. "I ask the questions here sunshine..." he pulled her close to him, their bodies touching. She tried to push him away but he remained. He was strong. He moved his hands towards her trousers and began undoing them, but she was fast and grabbed the gun in his top pocket. He held it to his head.

"Get up." she said and he did what she said with a serious face. The gun shook in her hands slightly. "Hands up."

He put up his hands and looked at her with a smile. "Oh Marie, Marie, Marie." he said. "We both know you're not going to pull that trigger..." he said and began walking towards her slowly. She lowered the gun to his feet and let out a warning shot before returning it to his head.

"Try me." she said as she repositioned herself.

He froze on the spot.

"Well..." he said and took out another gun from another pocket and held it up to her. "Looks like only one of us is going to get out of here alive..." she watched as he placed his finger on the trigger. "I really didn't want to have to do this..."

BANG!

She gasped.

Everything went black.

* * *

_Cliffhanger! sorry i wont be able to update in a while! At least it leaves you time to think about what happens next! :) R&R!_


	15. Chapter 15

Thanks for being so patient! here's the next chapter for you guys :) i'll upload the next one too :)

* * *

He ran over to the girl lying on the ground, picked her up and ran out of the door.

"STOP POLICE!" shouted Donovan as she, Lestrade, Anderson and the rest of the force broke into the disused factory. She lowered her gun as she realised it was empty.

"Sir, no one is here..." she said to Lestrade. He had a look of disbelief on his face.

"No, she must be here... Our lead..." he looked down at the floor while rubbing the top of his head. He sighed. She had to be here, it all added up. He began to walk over to the chair in the centre of the room, but stopped when he saw a body.

"Anderson!" he shouted and he came running. They both crouched down to examine the body.

"Shot in the back of the head... So not suicide..." said Anderson after looking at the body for a couple of minutes. "The body's still warm so he was killed pretty recently."

"See we never needed freak to tell us what happened." Donovan smirked. Anderson looked up and a small smile crept on his face. "If he was still alive I bet he would have been behind this too."

Lestrade frowned. He knew Sherlock would have them running after the victim's killer and would have found Marie by now. He knew he wouldn't do something like that. He sighed and tried to think like the deceased detective.

Lestrade looked at the gun in the body's right hand, it had been fired recently. He looked at the direction in which he would have been standing and walked towards the chair. He looked at the ground and saw a small pool of blood.

"She was here!" he shouted, although he knew she would be injured, he was glad to know she had been here and was hopefully still alive. Donovan hurried over.

"How do you know it's her?" she asked, doubt spread on her face.

"I just know..." he said while standing. He saw a small trail of blood leading to another door. He began to follow the trail that left the factory, Anderson and Donovan close behind him. He began to run, he cared about this girl, he didn't know why but she was important to him, but she was like a daughter.

The trail stopped.

His heart sank.

"Got us nowhere after all..." Anderson said as he turned to return to the factory. Donovan followed after giving Lestrade a pitying look.

Lestrade placed his hands on his head and gradually slid them down his face. He sighed and rubbed his eyes. He placed his hands on his hips and followed his colleges back into the disused factory.

* * *

Her head was pounding. Pain shot up her leg...

Shot...

BANG!

She gasped as she opened her eyes suddenly and tried to sit up, only to find she was too weak and let her body become limp again. Her breathing quickened and looked at the man staring at her. He had a hint of worry in his eyes.

"Are you alright?" he said, still looking at her. She noticed his bare neck and looked down at her leg.

"Your scarf..." she saw the blood stained blue material.

He smirked slightly. "Trust you to worry about my scarf..." she tried to sit up again. "No, stay down. I'm taking you to hospital."

He heard a chuckle come from the girl's lips. The corners of his mouth lifted momentarily.

"What happened?" she asked, realising the last thing she could remember was being in a showdown with Moran.

"You were at gunpoint." he stated while tending to her cut wrist. "Luckily you did a warning shot so I could get in undetected." he swapped wrist and continued. "I shot Moran, he died." he smirked; it was just like how John had saved him on their first case together. "But he fired and hit your leg." he nodded to her leg and she looked down at it.

"Thank you..." she said, her headache turning into a migraine.

"I should be thanking you." she said, looking back at her face. "I've been looking for Moran for weeks..." he said now dabbing at her cut on her temple.

She looked at her surroundings. She realised her head was resting on his lap. She was in a car; it was driving fast, 90, no, 95 miles per hour... She felt dizzy. She closed her eyes again.

She felt pressure on her leg, Sherlock must have been trying to stop the blood...

"Sher..."

She blacked out.

"Marie?" he looked at the girl who had suddenly gone limp in his arms. He automatically reached for her wrist, still dripping with blood.

He sighed of relief. A pulse, but a weak pulse...

He pulled out his phone.

"Molly?"

"Sherlock?" she asked in a hushed tone. "Are you sure this is safe, I mean..."

"Molly, it's Marie. She could die and I need your help." he froze. The last sentence triggered an emotional response from him. He swallowed down the lump in his throat.

"Oh, well..."

"Molly, please..." he said, his voice braking. He hated how weak he was sounding. He tried to correct his voice to sound more normal.

"Okay... Bring her in round the back. I'll be waiting..."

"Thank you."


	16. Chapter 16

"Sherlock..."

"Marie? Marie!" she heard a voice. She recognised it but wasn't sure who it was.

"Sherlock..." she said again, hoping the man would appear before her. She opened her eyes and found she was looking directly at the ceiling. She felt a warmth in her left hand. She turned her head to her side to find her father looking at her.

He looked terrible. Dark circles under his eyes, lack of sleep with a mixture of worry and grief, he hadn't shaved in 3, no, 4 days and hadn't eaten this morning from his lack of plate with the empty mug next to him. His face was covered in worry but she saw the glimmer of hope in his eyes. She smiled.

"Dad..." she squeezed his hand gently. She looked at the damage across her body. She saw her right hand wrapped up in bandages and in a cast to try and repair the broken fingers. She sighed. She'd have to learn to write with her left hand from now on...

"I'm so glad your awake..." he said to her. He let the tear fall down his cheek. She rubbed her forehead.

"How long have I been out of it?" she asked. She wondered how much he knew. Did he know about Sherlock?

"Three days." he said with a small smile his face.

"How did I get here?" she asked, pretending she didn't know.

"One of Moriarty's men kidnapped you, shot you in the leg. Apparently a retired policeman came onto the scene and shot the man dead, contacted Molly and brought you here. I never got to thank him..." he rubbed his thumb across her knuckles. "All that matters is that you're ok." he smiled at her and she smiled back. "I thought I'd lost you too..."

She felt guilty that he still didn't know about Sherlock's survival but she wanted to know more. She knew Sherlock would have asked Molly to check on her so she would ask her later.

She looked around the room. There were flowers on the table next to her bed. She smiled, they were obviously from Lestrade. Then she saw a cane resting on the chair on which her father sat. Her heart sank. His limp had come back.

But for now she would make the most of her father's company. They soon got into comfortable conversation.

* * *

Sherlock glared at his phone. Why hadn't Molly updated him on Marie yet? He sighed and began pacing across the room. He tried to concentrate on the papers on the wall, trying to locate where the rest of Moriarty's men were but he gave up with a sigh and fell into the armchair. He put his fingertips together and placed them on his chin.

He didn't know how long he'd sat there before his phone vibrated in his pocket.

She's awake. - Molly

He quickly dialled her number, putting the phone to his ear. He began pacing again until she picked up. He stopped in his tracks.

"Molly? How is she? Can she remember anything? Is John there? How long has she-"

"Sherlock!" she heard her whisper violently down the phone. "She's fine, responding normally. Yes John's here. He said she woke up saying your name, as if that's all she remembered."

He sighed of relief. He slumped back into his chair.

"Do you want to talk to her?"

"Molly you know how dangerous it would be if I went to the hospital-"

"On the phone..." Molly said, rolling her eyes. Of course she knew how dangerous it would be.

"Right, yes, okay. John can't be there though."

"Of course." she peered into the hospital room where the girl and her father were laughing away at each other. "He hasn't eaten today so I can send him to go get food."

Sherlock smiled. Typical John, he cared too much. His smiled vanished from his face. He was caring too much. He was worried about this girl. He hadn't known her very long but he knew he could trust her, like John. He felt his emotionless mask cover his face automatically, even though he was neither with someone nor speaking to anyone.

He heard the sound of someone knocking on the door and muffled voices. He heard the door close again and Marie's voice. His heart began to beat slightly faster but he soon corrected that. _Caring is a disadvantage Sherlock,_ he told himself silently.

"Sherlock?" he heard her voice on the phone and sat bolt upright.

"Marie." he smiled slightly. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, thanks to you. Are you sure this is safe?"

"Don't worry it's a secure line." he said. She was still worried about him. How... _Sweet_.

"How did you do it?" she asked. "How did you survive?" she saw Molly shift uncomfortably in the chair on her right.

"It's complicated."

"Sherlock, you know me. I'll get it."

He sighed. She was right. He started to explain quickly. She looked at Molly who had gone slightly red in the face. Marie gave her a small smile as he explained her role in his 'suicide'. She got up and left the room to give them some privacy.

"Sherlock that was... Brilliant." she said with a smile of disbelief on her face. He smirked.

"No just the right people in the right places at the right time."

He heard her laugh quietly down the phone.

"How's John?" he asked. He almost wished he didn't ask that question.

"I don't know..." she said and he heard her sigh. "He's trying to stay happy around me but I can see the sadness in his eyes. He's not getting over you any time soon Sherlock."

"But is he alright?"

"He's managing, Sherlock. That's all I can say."

He sighed. He wanted to tell John, but it was just too dangerous. He was putting Molly and Marie's lives in danger just speaking to them.

"Sherlock?"

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry."

His grip on his phone strengthened. He hated being pitied but this felt different.

"Thank you." how else could he reply? He stretched out his legs and crossed them at his ankles.

"Marie?" Molly said as she popped her head round the door.

"Yeah?" she asked, a bit annoyed she was interrupting them.

"John, wait, I mean, your dad is coming."

"Okay..." she turned back to the phone. "Sherlock?"

"Marie."

"Be careful." he could hear the worry in her voice.

"You too. Keep John safe."

"I will." she looked at the door. "Goodbye Sherlock."

"Goodbye Marie."

He heard her hang up. He put his phone back in pocket and stood and looked at his wall covered in paper. He had to do this. He had to do it for John.


	17. Chapter 17

FINISHED WRITING IT! going to upload the last few chapters now... ENJOY!

* * *

"Happy birthday!" they shouted as she walked into the living room in her dressing gown and striped pyjamas.

John had moved back to 221B with her again a few months ago and had been helping Lestrade with cases for the last year as his 'work experience girl'. She had only managed to contact Sherlock once in all that time, after he called Molly to find out if she had fully recovered.

The big news in the last year though was that Sherlock was proved innocent. One of the men he captured came clean, told the police everything. John had been much happier that day but the day after became worse than ever, missing Sherlock even more.

She smiled. She looked at the wrapped presents on the table. Necklace from

Molly, another detective novel from Mrs Hudson and a card from Lestrade, containing £100. She smiled at them again. She pretended to look surprised when she opened them, even though it was very obvious what they were.

"The big one eight eh?" said Lestrade, giving her a hug. She hugged him back.

She released him and turned to her father. It had been two years since he thought Sherlock had died. She still saw the sadness in his eyes.

"Here." he handed her a wrapped present. She smiled and gave him a small hug before opening the package. Inside she found Sherlock's old skull and microscope.

"I..." she wiped away the tear falling down her cheek. "I thought... I thought you got rid of these..." she put them down on the table and pulled him into a tight hug.

"They're all I have of him left. You remind me so much of him..."

"Dad..." her voice broke.

They continued hugging until they heard a knock at the door. She frowned. It wasn't a knock she recognised and considering everyone was already here, it puzzled her even more. She knew it wouldn't be a client, they hadn't had one in

9 months.

"I'll get it..." said Mrs Hudson, with confusion in her voice. John turned to his friends and they began to converse.

Marie walked over to the window and looked outside. She smiled broadly as she saw Sherlock standing in the street. She held up the skull and winked at him.

She saw him smirk as he turned to walk down the street.

"Marie?" she heard Mrs Hudson call as she climbed the stairs.

"Yes?" she replied, trying to remove the grin on her face.

"No one there... They just left a present on the doorstep." she passed her a small package wrapped in brown paper with a string. She opened it to find a small jewellery box. She opened it slowly and glanced at the people around her, all looking confused.

She looked into the box. A smile spread over her face. Inside was a silver charm bracelet with three charms attached to it. One was a M, one was a J and one was a S. She read the small card inside the box lid.

_When you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth._

She thought about it for a moment. Three charms together... She looked at the charms and smiled. He's coming home soon...

"Well whatever it is it's made her more than happy." she heard Lestrade say.

She slammed the lid shut and put the box in her pocket.

"What?" she said, pretending nothing had happened. They laughed at her.

"Secret admirer..." Lestrade said mockingly. John frowned slightly.

"Well you had better go get changed." John said with a small smile. "We're going out for lunch."

"Okay." she said with a quick smile and ran up the stairs. She entered her room and looked at the dress she had already got out her wardrobe. She looked at the violin resting in he corner. She picked it up and placed it on her shoulder. She closed her eyes as the bow touched the strings.

She had learnt to play while trying to make use of her right hand. She had managed to train her fingers to their full potential again. She loved the violin. It comforted her as it reminded her of Sherlock and his amazing talent.

Now she had been given the note from Sherlock, she knew he would want it back pretty soon so she made the most of it, playing 4 pieces before changing into her dress, fixing her hair, brushing her teeth and doing her makeup. By the time she walked back downstairs, the group had finished having a cup of tea and a long chat, obviously about her as they stopped talking as she walked into the room.

"Dear, you look lovely." Mrs Hudson said with a smile on her face. Marie touched the necklace Molly gave her and looked down at her dress. She looked at the baggy top, detailed black and white roses and then to the tight black skirt at the bottom. It was a present from her dad. He had bought it for her a week ago as an early birthday present. She smiled back at the older woman.

"Thank you."

"Right." said Lestrade, clapping his hands together once. "Let's go!"

The group walked down the stairs and out the door. They hailed a cab and squeezed into the back.

They arrived at the restaurant and sat down at their table. They were enjoying their conversation when Marie looked out the window and saw Sherlock standing outside. He began walking away from the window.

"I need some air..." Marie said distantly while standing.

"Are you okay?" John asked with concern on his face.

"I'm fine!" she called back as she grabbed her dark coat and walked outside and round the corner.

She saw the detective leaning against a wall.

"Well don't you look lovely."

"Sherlock!" she said with a grin on her face.

"You're not wearing my bracelet? I'm hurt." he said with a smirk.

"Not changed a bit have you?" she said as she leant against the wall next to him.

The corners of his mouth twitched "Happy birthday."

"Thanks."

They stood in silence for a while. Sherlock reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigarette and lit it.

"What happened to it being impossible to keep up a smoking habit in London?"

"Well I haven't been in London, have I?" He smirked and she shook her head at him.

"So... Have you found them all yet?"

"Nearly." he said letting out a puff of smoke.

"How many more?"

"Just one." he said while nodding towards a small shop across the street. She followed his gaze to see a man leave the shop. He dropped his cigarette and stood on it with his heel.

"Coming?"

She looked back at the restaurant then at the detective. She had missed running with Sherlock.

"Wouldn't miss it for the world."

The corner of his mouth lifted slightly into a smile. His long legs broke out into a run and chased after the man. She tried to keep up with him as he darted round a corner. She pulled off her heels and continued running.

"Sherlock!" she shouted as she saw him jump on top of the man. The man put up a fight but Sherlock kept him on the ground. Suddenly they flipped over. The man raised his fist but Marie hit him hard in the back with her heel. He cried out in pain and Sherlock kicked him in the chest, sending him flying backwards. He punched him hard him the side of the head, knocking him out cold.

"Well he was an easy one..." he said as he got out his phone and sent a text to someone. He out it away and looked at her.

"You're welcome." she said, putting her heels back on. He smirked at her but it soon vanished from his face.

"It's over..." he said with a small frown. He looked at her. "They're gone.

They're all gone..."

She smiled. "You can see dad again."

The frown lifted from his face. "You're right. Lets go." He strode away towards the restaurant.

"Wait, what?"

"I haven't spoken to him in two years."

"He'll freak out! Can't you wait another few hours?" she called after him.

He stopped and looked at her. "You're right." he quickly hailed a cab. "I'll see you back at the flat." he said before closing the door and driving away.

She sighed and watched the cab leave. She crossed her arms and made her way back to the restaurant. She didn't know whether to tell her father or not. She wouldn't know what to tell him...

"Where've you been? We were getting worried." said John, looking into her eyes, concern spread over his face. He stood and gently put his hands on her arms.

"Just needed some air..." she said. She couldn't meet his gaze. She didn't know how he would react to seeing his dead best friend. She swallowed as she sat down and began eating her food. It was going to be a long night.


	18. Chapter 18

"Mrs Hudson did you leave the lights on?" said John as he exited the taxi.

"No I definitely turned them off..." she said with a frown her face.

"Strange..." he said as he turned around and looked at Marie. "You coming?" he handed some money to the cabbie.

"Yeah..." she subconsciously rubbed her hair. Hell was about to break loose.

She quickly jumped out the cab and ran into the flat first. The pair looked at each other and then at the girl running up the stairs. John followed her cautiously, while Mrs Hudson walked into her own flat.

"Marie?" called John. "Marie, are you okay?" he asked.

_I'm fine_, she thought, _you're not going to be..._

She looked at the tall man in his armchair. It was as if he'd never left. He looked back at her. She saw the frown on his face.

"You took my violin." his bluntness put a small smile on her face but it soon disappeared as she saw her father reach the top of the stairs. Sherlock stood and walked towards the doorway.

He looked directly at the 'dead man'. He blinked hard in disbelief.

"Sherlock?" his voice broke. "No, no, no, no, no. You're dead..." he pointed at him.

"John-"

John punched him hard in the face, causing him to fall onto the sofa.

"Dad!" shouted Marie while looking at her father in surprise, who was ready to go in for another hit to the detective's face. His gaze met hers. She could see the anger and hurt in his eyes.

"You knew!" he shouted. "YOU KNEW!"

"He saved my life!" she screamed at him. John looked at her, shock on his face.

He let go of the surprised man. "He found me in the factory, not a retired policeman. He got me to a hospital."

He stepped back and sank into his armchair. He grabbed his head in his hands and let out the breath he had been holding for the last few seconds.

"John..." said Sherlock. "I had to. They were going to kill you and Mrs Hudson and Lestrade."

He looked up with a frown of confusion and opened and closed his mouth a few times. "Wait, what?"

"Moriarty had three gunmen. If I didn't die, the people I cared about would."

John looked at the taller man and sighed. He turned his head to his daughter.

Marie shifted uncomfortably. He frowned.

"Hang on," he said, folding his arms. "How did you know he was coming back today?"

She scratched the back of her head. "I didn't know he was coming back today; I just knew he was coming back soon..." she took out the bracelet she had kept in her pocket and put it in John's hands. "That's what was in the package this morning." He looked at the three silver charms. "When you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth." she repeated the words from the card inside the box.

"I'm sorry John." said Sherlock as he walked closer to the man. Marie stood hesitantly in the doorframe. John beckoned for her to come closer. She slowly took a few steps towards her father and he took her hand in his. He turned back to Sherlock.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked. His voice broke.

"I couldn't. You would've died."

"So?" he said with a short small grin.

Sherlock smiled back briefly.

"But what about Marie? They were going to kill her anyway."

"That's only because she saw me." he took another hesitant step forward. "At the graveyard."

He turned to his daughter. "You knew all that time?" his eyes darted over her face.

"I'm sorry dad... He told me not to tell you... For your own safety..." she let the tears fall down her cheeks. "I couldn't loose you too..."

He pulled her into a hug. Sherlock stood their awkwardly. He never understood the concept of hugs but he knew it meant a lot to the pair in front of him and so didn't interrupt with a snide comment like he usually would have.

John sighed and broke away. He lifted the charm bracelet that he was still holding in his hands.

"Whatever happens," he placed it round her wrist. "from now on, we're in this together." he did up the bracelet and turned to Sherlock. "Even if we might die."

He let go and let her arm fall to her side.

A smile crept on Sherlock's face. John put out his hand and Sherlock took it, shaking it slowly.

Marie turned and walked out the door. She knew they would want to be alone. She walked up the stairs and into her room. She heard their muffled voices from downstairs and took out her phone. She dialled Molly's number and placed the phone to her ear.

"Hello birthday girl!" she heard her happy voice say.

"Hey Molly..."

"What's wrong?" she could hear the concern in her voice.

"Nothing." she said. She allowed a smile to form on her face. "Sherlock's back."


	19. Chapter 19

After being in her room for a few hours, she walked down the stairs and leaned against the doorframe to the living area. She saw the pair smiling and talking happily. They turned to her as she entered the room.

"I want my skull back." said Sherlock bluntly. John laughed.

"Oh, hello to you too." she said and laughed. She walked into the kitchen where her presents were and picked up the skull. She threw it over to him and he caught it. He frowned at her.

"Be careful. I only have a few possessions left." he said, carefully placing the skull on the fireplace.

"That's what you think." she said. Sherlock looked at John who shrugged at him.

"Does Mrs Hudson know yet?"

John laughed. "Yes. She was a bit surprised to say the least."

Sherlock smiled.

"Come on then." said Marie as she turned around and began walking down the stairs. The men looked at each other and followed her.

"Mrs Hudson!" she called.

"Yes dear?" she said, coming out of her kitchen, looking a bit dazed.

"Do you still have the key to 221C?"

"Of course, do you want it?"

"Yes please."

She walked into the kitchen to retrieve the keys. "Mind you dear, I don't think it'll be very nice in there. I haven't been in their since Sherlock found the trainers..." she passed the keys to the girl. "It still has all the damp..."

"Thank you Mrs Hudson." she said and walked down the stairs to the flat below.

John and Sherlock stood behind her as she twisted the key and opened the door.

"Ta da!" she said as they walked in the room.

She saw the corners of Sherlock's mouth twist up into a smile. All his old stuff was in here. Some things had dust settled on them and others were protected in cardboard boxes.

"Did you really think I could throw it all away?" she said with a smile.

"Thank you..." he said as he started picking up objects, looking at them and reminiscing.

"Well I had to throw some things away." Sherlock looked at her and frowned. She laughed. "I had nowhere to put any toes or hands." she elbowed him lightly in the arm. His smile returned.

"Right," said John, rubbing his hands together. "We better get this stuff upstairs..." he picked up a box and started walking upstairs. Marie and Mrs Hudson followed suit. Sherlock looked at his things and let himself grin fully. Then he frowned as he saw an unwelcome friend. He picked up the deer stalker and put it on. He had strangely missed this old thing...

Marie came stomping down the stairs and laughed at him. "Come on you." she said passing him a box then picking one up herself. "These boxes aren't going to shift themselves."

Marie slumped onto the sofa. "Phew! I forgot how much stuff you had Sherlock..." she said, taking a sip of her tea. She peered into the once usable kitchen, only to realise all of Sherlock's experiment equipment was already spread out on the table. She sighed.

"Looks like takeaways from now on." she said with a smirk. John yawned.

"Haha, yeah..." he said. "Right I'm off to bed." he stood from his armchair. "I think that was a successful day." said and hugged Marie. "Happy birthday." he said before walking to his room.

She turned to Sherlock. "I bet it feels strange being back." she said to him.

"You could say that." he said, looking distant.

"You should tell Greg."

"Who?"

She rolled her eyes. "Lestrade."

"Oh, right. I will... at some point."

"He missed you." she said. He scoffed. "What? He did!"

"So you started solving crimes with him."

"In your honour."

He looked at her. She sighed. "They all thought you were dead so me and Lestrade started doing cases in your name."

He chuckled. She shook her head. "It's their way of showing respect."

"The dead don't know, they're dead."

She smiled. "It's the flowers all over again."

"Oh not the bloody flowers again..."

She laughed. It was as if he'd never been gone.


	20. Chapter 20 The End

"But... What?.. Wait... No... You're dead..."

Sherlock chuckled. He was finding people's reactions quite amusing.

"I'm not a ghost. Boo." he said walking past him looking at the file on his desk. Lestrade looked at Marie. She laughed at him.

"It's really him. He never died." she said with a smile on her face.

"But that's impossible..." he said.

"No, just improbable." he looked back up from the file and at the DI. "This one's easy, it was the wife."

"Told you..." Marie said as Lestrade rolled his eyes.

Donovan walked into the office with her nose in a file. "Sir we have to do the paperwork on this case..." she looked up and her face turned white. Her eyes widened and she dropped the file on the floor. She pointed at him with a shaking finger. "No no no no! You died!" she shouted.

Sherlock smirked. "Boo." he said and she ran out the office.

Lestrade laughed. "Right now I believe it." he frowned and looked at him. "How did you do it?"

Sherlock sighed and rolled his eyes. "Marie, you explain it." he was getting bored of repeating himself.

"Fine..."

After a while, Lestrade looked at him and a large grin appeared on his face. "Way to go out in style!" he said and laughed.

Donovan and Anderson walked in hesitantly.

"Oh my god..." said Anderson when he saw the tall man standing there.

"Yes well done Anderson. I'm not dead." Sherlock rolled his eyes and turned to

Marie. "What an idiot." she laughed.

"Why are you here freak?" said Donovan in what she thought was a confident, cold tone, but she just sounded like a scared little girl.

"Because I'm bored." he said and turned to Lestrade. "Any cases?"

"None at the moment no." he replied. He turned to Marie. "However on a different note," he glanced at Sherlock. "There is a job going here in our department. I know you don't have any qualifications but you've certainly had enough experience." he smirked. He could see the smile getting bigger and bigger on her face. "If you want it, it's yours." he said.

"Yes!" She shouted and hugged the DI tightly. She looked at Sherlock, rolling his eyes at the scene. Donovan and Anderson were giving her evils. She knew they didn't like her; she reminded them too much of Sherlock. She let go of Lestrade.

"On one condition." she said to him.

"What's that?"

"That I can go off with Sherlock rather than you lot."

"I don't think-"

"You don't think it's a good idea? No I thought you wouldn't so I'll have to decline-" She turned to Sherlock and headed towards the door.

"Wait..." he sighed, knowing she's too valuable to loose. "Fine... you can go with him when necessary."

She smiled at him. "Nice." she said and left with Sherlock close behind her.

He looked at her with a mocking smile on his face.

"Shut up." she said with a smirk.

"Technically I didn't say anything..."

"Shut up." she said again and laughed.

They walked onto the street and got a cab back to 221B.

"Dad?" she called up the stairs when they returned.

"I'm in the kitchen." he called back.

She ran into the kitchen. "Lestrade offered me a job!"

John looked up from the cup of tea he was making. "Really? That's fantastic!"

"And I get to solve cases with you guys rather than them if I want to."

He chuckled. "I'd like to see them try and stop you." he took a sip of his tea.

"What did you do with the blood?" Sherlock said, looking at the mug in John's hands.

"What?" said John looking at the mug then back at the man in front of him. Sherlock waltzed past him and looked in the cupboard. He looked back at the mug.

"You may not want to drink that..." he said walking into the lounge.

"Sherlock, what have you done?"

"I may have used that to keep some pigs' blood."

John poured the tea down the sink and threw the mug in the bin. "Sherlock!"

"What? It's not my fault."

John frowned at him and sighed. "I'm going to go brush my teeth..."

Marie laughed.

She looked at the man who had picked up his violin.

"Hello, old friend." she heard him say quietly. She smiled as he began to play.

John came back and sat with his daughter on the sofa.

They listened to him play until Sherlock's phone went off. He took it out his pocket and smiled.

"Let's go." he said and grabbed his coat and ran out the door.

Marie and John smiled and ran out after him.

This was just the second chapter in their lives together.

She hoped the adventure would go on forever.

The End.


End file.
